Ivory Breathes
by Runzia
Summary: AU. Slash. DarkFic. Draco becomes the apprentice of a mildly insane, but talented sculptor, Dean. After a few years of apprenticeship, Draco picks up some of Dean's unsavory behavior, as well as starting new ones of his own. Harry falls victim to Draco.


Chapter 1

It was Dean who chose him as an apprentice. Draco had known, even at eleven, that this was a very honored position. Dean was renowned all over the land. He held political power, attractive features, a strong sense of intellect, and, above all else, creative mind perfectly paired with skilled hands. A sculptor who could make ivory breathe.

Dean was already an unorthodox sculptor. A poor painter had taken him in. However, the painter had started to become popular with royalty and foreign royalty. Therefore, Dean had been treated to a life of wealth and the finest education. He had excelled in every creative output possible.

Designing beautiful architectural buildings, scrolls on the development of a child's brain in response to beautiful art, the muse of various musicians, the first one to know if there was a great new play everyone should go to because the writers would oft ask his opinion on the plays. However, the most odd thing about Dean was that he had dark skin. Brown skin so wonderfully clear and smooth, lips so round and perfectly full, women were jealous of him. Despite him being a sculptor, Dean didn't mind giving his body exercise, so he wasn't skinny with useless arms or overly fat with three chins. He was a slightly muscled and totally healthy.

Last and not least, Dean never abused his powers. Any mage could wave their staff and create something beautiful, but to do it by hand… That was skill. A skill that his father admired and encouraged Draco to do. Draco had to say his hand with concrete and clay was quite fair. His eye for quality materials and his slick tongue for bargaining were more than fair. His father always displayed Draco's completed work proudly and Draco's scrolls on the round marble table in their vastly furnished front room.

So when the word spread that Dean was looking for an apprentice, Lucius, Draco's father, hurriedly entered Draco. The competition lasted nearly two years, with different pieces for the challenge made and tutors paid aplenty for their services. Oft during the two years Dean himself interviewed various competitors, alone in his mansion. Draco himself had been there six times, which everyone could see that Draco was favored among the potential apprentices. The more jealous ones would say that Draco traded his flesh for favor, but his father already told him to let no one touch him without good reason.

"Play the game for all or nothing," his father had said. "Be smart about who you give your good merchandise to. A merchant with cheap wares will not care whom he will sale to. A merchant with great wares will seek out a bidder and chose who gains the purchase wisely. Always get the most for what you have."

Draco worked hard those two years learning and sculpting nonstop. There were girls that wanted to be courted by him, but he was too busy to take time out to entertain those frivolous girls with his presence. His tutors were knowledgeable men, all hand picked by his father as the best. He frequently replenished his tool supply, making sure to get quality metals for use as his chisel and other tools. He also made sure to stay in the sociable circles so that his name could be casually mentioned by anyone and everyone would know who he was.

That night, when Draco was having his eleventh summer, the maid had fetched him from his room where he was studying. He came down into his father's bedroom; his mother and father perched on opposite sides of the bed, beaming. His father had stated that Dean had requested his presence at his mansion in three nights time. His mother had smiled, big and wide, like she rarely did, and exclaimed how proud she was to have a son like Draco.

His father had made him go through the most uncomfortable but yet necessary things. Getting his whole body waxed, massaged, and oiled properly for three days straight. Then the etiquette that Draco thought he knew, he had to learn because it was different when one was in the presence of a superior in business. His mother, of course, fussed over his clothes and didn't let Draco have any of his craved sweets for fear it would blotch his complexion or make him fall ill suddenly. All of this made Draco nervous for his visit. He couldn't be too precocious or too shy, or not unique enough. So many rules and standards, Draco could almost barely keep them all straight.

But his childhood friend, Pansy, soothed him on the night of the meeting. She had chastely kissed Draco's cheek as she carefully lined his eyes with sliver kohl. One of his cousins braided some of his hair with sliver ribbons that had patterns on them into his hair. Then he was stood out of his chair and his nudity was covered a thin, high quality sheer sliver under robe. Draco held out his arms, looking at his reflection in a rare artifact called a mirror.

"I think you should shine and sparkle, when you walk," his mother had said, before she cast a glitter charm over him.

Draco closed his eyes as he felt the light particles settle on his skin. Pansy was there soothing his nerves by rubbing behind his ear and murmuring reassurances. Her breath was hot on his skin as he lifted up his arms and let his middle robe of white silk slide down. Draco shuddered a little hoping he didn't make a fool or himself or his family. The last thing he wanted to be known for in his family history was disgrace.

He turned around and was greeted by Pansy's dark gray eyes and white, white skin. Pansy was two autumn's older than him. She had been destined to court him, but ever since Dean had moved into the city, she had not waited for Draco to try to make time in his busy schedule like her father had wanted. Draco loved Pansy, but merely as a friend, and it would've been strange to court her and then marry. Though Draco supposed it would've been a marriage of convenience.

Pansy smiled and put his heavier sliver outer robe. She buttoned the top white gold clasp and blew lightly on his face. Draco could see the glitter whirl around in the air as shiny particles through his happily squinted eyes.

"You will do fine, Draco," she said, her Greek accent making the French sound odd.

"I hope so, _rayon de lune_," Draco replied. "I could not bear to shame my family. He will help me make my way in life, so it will not be any harder than it is to just live."

Pansy clucked. "Bless you. You have not lived a hard life, _enfant gâté_."

Draco rolled his eye. "I am not spoiled," he pouted.

"You are," Pansy insisted, black eyebrows raised.

"It does not matter," his mother said, having him step into his thin sliver and white painted sandals. "He will succeed in this competition."

"People will talk since he is so young," one of Draco's cousins said.

"_Je m'en fous_," his mother said simply. Then she turned and Draco could feel the fire gather inside her. "Speak when you are spoken to, _juste un enfant_! Not before!"

Draco heard his cousin apologize demurely and felt pride. It was justified. No inferior should ever speak out of turn. How uncouth that was. To rudely to speak to a superior of one's family so informally was punishable by ten licks. Draco's skin was flawless and had never gotten a lick or lash in his life. He smiled at his cousin's misfortune.

"All right." His mother came over to him and kissed his forehead. "Remember all that you have learned and be respectful."

"Not too much," Pansy added. "You will yet be a man."

Draco smiled and nodded. He knew better than to say anything. It was rude to interrupt advice no matter who was giving it and it would be great disrespect to do so.

Pansy hugged him, while she murmured, "_Bonne chance_."

Draco smiled into her hair, as dark as night, and squeezed her to let her know she made him feel better. His mother came next and hugged him tight before releasing him.

She held his face in her hands and said, "_Je t'aime_. _Être fier,_ Draco."

Draco smiled back looking out the door at the carriage Pansy had just transfigured from a rock.

"I will, _mère_."

He stepped out into the night incredibly confident and breathed in the crisp air. He would succeed. He knew it. Dean would see that he was very unique.


End file.
